Shots
by Kianang
Summary: You'd hate shots too if you died on a giant needle in a past life.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own FY. I also don't own vaccines, Donald Duck, or crying blonde kids. Um. Yeah.

**AN:** Well, I had a tetanus shot a few days ago, and my brother just had a hep B shot today. And I started thinking, hmm, how must our favorite little genius-boy feel about shots? Considering he kind of committed suicide on a giant needle. Yeah. I haven't seen that part of the anime in AGES, though, so all the Miboshi luvvv will be way off. And, um, wow. This is a piece of crap. And the ending is so underwhelming. I'm sorry

**Shots**

_I'm a big boy now... I'm a big boy now_, thought the poor blonde boy sitting on the examination table. He sat and swung his legs out, nervously pulling at his shirt. _I won't cry this time._

For as long as he could remember, shots made him cry. The doctor would smile and tell him, "It'll be done before you know it," or "You won't feel a thing," but it was never true. And no amount of Donald Duck band-aids would change that. Every time, he would feel the nurse pinch his arm and prick him with the needle... and right when she was about to withdraw, to release him, to end it all, the eyes would come. Time would stop, and everything would fade away.

The darkness was always so heavy. He could vaguely feel the nurse holding his arm, gentle and reassuring... but then, her grip would tighten. And the needle would delve deeper, and he could swear it was touching his bone... penetrating it... breaking it. He would panic, try to break free. The vaccine would flood his arm, and his fingers would move involuntarily. His finger tips swelled with liquid, ready to pop.

And then, there were the eyes. The deeper the needle went, the larger the eyes would become. Soon, they dominated him, looming over him, large and crimson and terrible. The eyes would cover his own, and then flow inside him. And in the darkness, he would be pushed back. The eyes would crush him into the back of his skull, laughing.

And then he would wake up, sobbing in Mama's arms. She would hold him close and promise him some nice ice cream for being such a brave, brave boy, but he couldn't stop crying. At first, the nurse, and then the doctor would try to talk him out of crying, maybe offer him some candy, but he was inconsolable. He would clutch at Mama's shirt, and she would have to carry him out to the car like that.

Later, he would tell Mama what happened. And every time, she would say, "Oh, it's just your imagination." She would reach across the table to wipe some chocolate ice cream off his cheek, and tell him, "I was with you the whole time."

That was always how it went.

But this year, this year things would be different. When they called his name, he puffed out his chest and told Mama to wait outside, he'd be brave. And he was brave. He was brave when they weighed him, he was calm when they took his temperature, he smiled when they checked his reflexes. But his bravery was weak, his calm shaky, and his smile small.

And so he sat on the examination table, without Mama to hold his hand. Without an anchor. But he was a big boy.

So this time, when door opened, he shut his eyes and tried to block out the nurse who had come to give him the shot. He nodded to each of her questions, but refused to look at her. He kept his eyes scrunched tight as he heard her get out the cotton balls and alcohol. He shook as she wiped the wet cotton balls on his arm.

"You need to relax, or it will hurt more."

That only made things worse. He tried to relax, but his body simply wouldn't unwind. He managed to make his arm stop shaking, but he could still feel the deepest part of his stomach winding and winding and winding. He was like a spring, and he was sure that the second she put in the needle he would fly off the table and through the ceiling.

He felt the needle. As time slowed, he saw the eyes approach. His eyes were closed, but he could still see their reflection on the backs of his eyelids.

But this time, he opened his eyes wide. "You can't have me."

"Ok, all done."

The eyes? What happened? All he could see was the sterile white walls... he heard the lights buzzing, not the laughter.

Nothing.

As he walked out to the waiting room to meet Mama, he saw the eyes peeking at him from the shadows under the receptionist's desk. He stared them down.

When Mama saw him she tried to hug him, but he pulled back.

"No eyes this time?"

He grinned. "Nope."

Mama was ecstatic. He backed himself into a corner as she happily thanked the doctor and the very confused nurse, who didn't quite know what to make of her. As they walked out to the car, Mama kept kissing him and ruffling his hair. As he sat down in the car, he shrank back against the door, afraid she would kiss him again.

"I still get ice cream, right?"


End file.
